


Pine

by Pineapple_Strawberries_15



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ben Howard - Freeform, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Death of minor characters, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Friendship, Growing Up, M/M, Old Pine, Running Away, Slice of Life, Song Chapter, minor character child death, multi part fanfiction, no powers, repost because accidentally deleted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-09-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 03:51:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/908569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pineapple_Strawberries_15/pseuds/Pineapple_Strawberries_15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Note: I accidentally deleted this while viewing it on my phone, so had to re-upload it. </p><p>Erik, beginning the story at age eleven, is an orphan brought into a children's home, run by a possibly mentally unstable and abusive man named Sebastian Shaw. </p><p>Charles, beginning the story at age ten, is practically an orphan, living in a mansion he calls "frivolous" with his alcoholic non-existent mother, abusive step father, and temperamental, but not horrible, step-brother Cain. </p><p>The two boys come together one day and form a lasting friendship that, within a short amount of time, will have them sharing bittersweet childhood memories and embarking on an adventure. </p><p>~For: aliceduikana~</p><p>Originally published 2013-07-27 <br/>Had 4 comments<br/>9 Kudos<br/>1 Bookmark<br/>251 hits</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_**Part 1** _

 

Mama was dead, papa had left, and suddenly America was not the place his parents thought it would be- suddenly he missed Germany. The Children's Home smelled of soup; the children stared at him as if he was a new toy, and the person dropping him off was gone in a flash. “Welcome, my name is Sebastian Shaw, you may call me Mr. Shaw.” Erik stared up at the man, who stared at him like he was a burden. His shoulders hunched; he gripped his duffel bags strap tight enough to turn his knuckles white and as the door closed behind him, he did not think he'd know the happiness again.

Mr. Shaw liked to lock the children in a small hole in the closet when they misbehaved and he liked to test their limits- see how much pain they could withstand. Nobody said a word about it, and people who took the children from the home time to time never came back to stop it. The children would never mention it, so neither did he. Late at night, he could hear the sniffles of the younger children, could feel his heart hammering in his chest- because he knew what was going to happen soon.

Doors would creak gently open, then swiftly slam shut- there would be a scream, but it would die down quickly. The next morning the filthy children would exit the cramped bedrooms and march themselves to the cold baths that Mr. Shaw prepared in the morning before he left on business. They would leave the water when they were done, for it would be the same water they would use later that night before bed. Younger children got breakfast and dinner, older children got lunch and dinner that the oldest children had to prepare.

You were aloud to stay within the confines of the Home's fence; Erik would press his face to the bars and reach out to pick the dandelions on the other side. He'd watch the people go by slowly in their cars on their way to stores. He knew which people were headed to the liquor store and which people were going to the grocers, his sight didn't go far enough to tell where the others went, but he imagined they were going somewhere nicer than this dingy place. Better than New York.

“Come,” a man barked, marching past the Children's Home with a cigar clenched between his teeth. He'd seen the man pass by many times, dressed in a gray suit and looking sour; he would always get on the bus down the street and sometimes he accompanied a thin blond woman with sad blue eyes, like the ocean. Today it was a short boy with the same eyes, he was young, about ten, and still had baby fat; the boy struggled to keep up with the man.

The man grabbed a small wrist and dragged the boy forward, Erik heard the crack of bones held too hard, but the boy made no sound, “Why do we even let you out of the house? Too worthless to get to the park on your own? After this, don't ever ask me again.” The little boys eyes moved over to Erik as if he could see inside of him, then he hesitantly said “yes sir,” in an accent unfamiliar to Erik, it wasn't like the other Americans.

-

The boy stopped in front of the gate a week later, waiting it seemed, Erik watched him through the windows as he finished his chores; around noon children flooded out to play, and the tall boy in overalls wandered to the gate and pressed his face to the bars. “I have been seeing you.” he whispered, accent thick and possibly German, “what do you want?” Deep blue stared into gray-green, “My name is Charles.”

“Erik. You have. . . odd accent.”

“So do you.”

And suddenly Erik was grinning widely and Charles held a small smile on his lips.

-

Every week Charles and Erik would meet at the gate, both accumulating bruises or pains of some kind. They didn't ask each other why about them, they both figured Mr. Shaw and Mr. Marko were very much the same kind of people. “My real father was nice. He didn't hit and mum didn't get upset and get funny.” Charles relayed to Erik one day as they sat back to back at the gate. “Funny?” Erik asked, not really understanding. “Yes, funny. She wobbles and she says weird things. What was your mom like?” Erik had to think about it for a while, “she never wobbles,” - “wobbled, past tense,” - “Ooh, I did not know. She never wobbled.”

Erik stared up at the sky, “my mama was hard worker. She came to America to work and she always talked about the 'someday,' but I think she worked too much and thought too much about someday and that is why she is dead.” Charles nodded and grabbed a dandelion, “I need to go home now, I see Mr. Shaw's vehicle coming up the street. Bye Erik.” The German boy raised a hand and waved as the boy left.

-

He thought, perhaps, that he liked Charles; Erik wasn't particularly sure what a real friend was, but he figured Charles could be one. The other boy was honest, and intelligent, and taught Erik words in English that he'd never heard before; Erik wanted to know as many languages as he could- mastering English was a good start, but so many words that sounded the same had many meanings and it was difficult. “You are my friend, Charles.” Erik told the shorter boy one day as they crouched beside the bars of the Home.

The proclamation made the brunette's brow furrow, “I've never had a friend before.” he whispered and stared at the ground; while Erik was surrounded by children, he, like the others, knew not to get attached as they could leave at any time; Charles was never around children, until the day his mother got worried about him stuck inside all the time and his step father got sick of him being around so often. “You are my friend too, Erik.” One of his pale hands reached through the bars and took a tan one; the two smiled at each other.

-

At the dead of summer, Charles came less and less and it made Erik nervous, because soon he would have to go to school and they would hardly see one another. It wasn't until Charles visited in a uniform that he knew their time together during the day was at a close.

“I'm on my way to school, I'm afraid I won't be able to visit during the week anymore.”

-

School was a lonely experience when Erik actually attended; he was smart and polite, but tall and angry looking, so the other children tended to leave him alone. School, compared to Home life, was bearable. At school he was not ridiculed for his accent or posture, or beaten for not wanting to eat the burned food, or shoved into a dark little hole- or told that his mother walked in front of a car to get away from him. At school the teachers were all understanding and they tried to be friendly, but their friendliness was false, teachers were paid to be decent to the children- Erik trusted no one.

 

School for Charles was an equally lonely experience, but the teachers were strict and frowned a great deal and the children all either avoided him because he was the youngest of his grade, and far too smart for his own good, or they demanded his help for school work- and who was he to refuse someone who needed help? Home life was not much better, mother drank too much and his step father liked to put his cigars out on Charles' back while reminding him that his father had in fact shot himself to get away from he and his mother.

-

Eventually Erik found a way to climb the gate. At the back of the Children's Home there were stacks of old wood, he would climb on top of them and hoist himself up and over the gate and fall to the ground on the other side. The day he found the new way out, he found his way into town, farther than he'd seen while not taking the bus to school, and discovered a piece of his small world. The town was bustling with cars and shops offering new electronics and a shop filled with books; he discovered homeless people who made a living begging or doing odd jobs for people who looked aggravated being stopped by them on the street; There were stands where a man held out hot dogs for people in exchange for $2, condiments were 50 cents extra.

That weekend he revealed his escape route to Charles, who seemed excited at the possibility of being with Erik without metal bars in the way. That weekend Erik left the gated yard and headed in the direction Charles usually went home in, he wasn't sure where the other boy lived, but his friend had once described it as “Large and frivolous.” Needless to say, Erik just ended up wandering the sidewalk until Charles actually left his house at the usual time and went to meet the other. They paused at the sight of one another, grinned, and ran at one another- it was odd, neither had a hug in so long, they didn't quite remember it being such a mess of limbs, but they still found a way to laugh despite the awkwardness of their first hug with one another.

-

Charles' mother died three weeks before Christmas, the doctors said it was her heart, Kurt said it was the alcohol, Cain said it was because she was very sad. His home was colder than it had been in a long time, emptier too. Cain and Charles were left alone together while Kurt found ways to avoid the mansion they lived in; the two cooked the meals and cleaned what they could and remained as civil as brothers usually do. The only times Cain was angry, truly angry, was after one of Kurt's rages, but Charles knew not to take it personally when his brother lashed out.

Two weeks before Christmas, there was no more wood in the mansion to keep it warm, the electricity only worked in the half of the structure where the lab was, and they didn't know where Kurt had gone. There was a delivery of food the week the wood ran out, so they were thankful that at least they wouldn't starve. With Christmas coming up they were hopeful that their caregiver would at least bring firewood, wool only helped so much.

The week of Christmas, they started taking branches from the trees outside and lighting them up in the fireplace the way Sharon, Charles' mum, had taught them to. The electricity stopped completely that week, but the two couldn't help but grin at it, after all, wasn't the electric company always doing things such as this around Christmas? A couple days before Christmas, Charles lifted his mattress and grabbed the money he had hid there, and he bought candles from the grocers down the street, firewood, a nutcracker to give to Cain on Christmas, and a necklace with a menorah charm on it to give to Erik since Shaw didn't allow Jewish celebrations in the Children's Home.

Come Christmas there was still no sign of Kurt. Charles left the mansion, told Cain he'd be back soon, and went down the the Children's Home. There were no children outside playing, no sign of Erik, so he waited outside the gate on the sidewalk with his hands to the bars. He waited an hour, two, then three, shivering and waiting and hoping Erik would come out soon. Mr. Shaw saw the boy waiting outside and marched out the door, “are you a school friend of one of the children?” The blue eyed boy nodded, nerves grinding, “I was hoping to see Erik, wish him a happy Christmas.” Shaw frowned, “Erik is in trouble right now.”

Charles' stomach whirled with worry, he knew Mr. Shaw was not a nice man, “Oh. . .when will he not be? I. . . I have a gift for him.”

“I'll give it to him, boy.” Shaw held out his hand and gave a smile to him, a smile that would trick any naive adult, but Charles knew not to trust him, “it's okay, I can come back later and give it to him, if that's alright sir. I was hoping to hand it over myself.” He began backing away and Shaw's hand dropped, “Now, my boy, I'm sure your parents wouldn't want you to come back here on Christmas, would it not be simpler to allow me to give it to him?”

“Pardon me sir, but would it not be simpler to let me see Erik and give it to him?”

Shaw scowled, then smiled, “then hold on a minute.” He returned to the house and after about ten minutes, he was pushing a barefooted Erik out the door. The two stared at one another silently, with Shaw over Erik's shoulder, “this boy has something for you, son.”

“I don't want it. I don't want anything from you.” Erik said softly, “go away!” he snapped a moment later and headed back inside the house. Shaw beamed down at the young English boy, “I'm afraid he's been in a sour mood. You see, he was on duty to watch the younger kids, he let one of them freeze to death outside.” Shaw waved to the boy and headed back into the home, slamming the door behind him.

-

Kurt came home after New Years, Cain had gotten pneumonia- Charles got a neighbor to call for an ambulance, since their electricity had gone out. There hadn't been a food delivery since Christmas- Charles' saved money had gone to more firewood and bread from the grocery store down the street- it didn't last long enough. “You stupid child, why did you not call me?” Kurt rounded on Charles and shook him roughly, “I'm sorry!” Charles bawled, “I didn't know where you were! I didn't know!”

“You didn't know?!” he boomed, “You didn't even try! You could have phoned my work! You could have done something, rather than sit on your royal fat ass and let my son die!” He threw Charles into the wall and marched from the room. A few minutes later he grabbed Charles by the arm and threw him out the door, “get out of my sight!”

-

When Erik and Charles met again, the snow was melted and Cain was doing better, and Kurt was better to Cain than he ever had been before. The two boys stared at one another through the gate, Erik whispered “I'm sorry,” and Charles whispered, “I know.” They grabbed hands through the bars and pressed their foreheads against them.

-

By the time Erik was twelve and Charles had reached eleven, it was almost summer again. There was no more baby fat on Charles, he just looked tired thin. Erik was taller and getting angrier every day, and now he opened the gate and left it when he wished. They walked the streets and talked about nothing in particular, avoiding talk of Sebastian Shaw or Kurt Marko. “You know, my friend, everything is temporary. . . someday we will be able to leave.”

It was a simple statement, brought on by Charles' uncanny ability to seemingly know what Erik was thinking; “What if we don't have a someday? What if we wait too long and it's too late? Shaw could forget me in the hole and I could suffocate and die or Kurt Marko could toss you down some stairs.” Despite the morbidity of Erik's words, Charles laughed, “Erik, what could we do? We're kids.” The taller boy stopped and grabbed Charles' upper arms excitedly, “we could leave! We could run away!”

They grinned at one another, then frowned, silent and with Erik holding onto Charles. The smaller boy looked into Erik's eyes and whispered, “can we?”


	2. Chapter 2

**_Part 2_ **

 

They booked it to their “homes” as soon as the cogs in their heads started moving and they had already set their hearts on getting away from the life they currently lived. They decided that they would leave as soon as possible, they would pack their bags, wait until 2am, and duck out of their houses by the shroud of night. They would walk to the nearest train station and hide out there until the train began taking passengers, and then they would mesh with said passengers. Charles was going to rifle through his late mothers purses for the left over money he knew she still had in them- his mother had a rotation of purses that she hid in the back of her closet, so Kurt wouldn't think to look in any of them, he never paid close enough attention to her, but Charles did.

Charles crammed a map into his backpack, plenty of socks, two pairs of boxers, a sweater, two t-shirts, and one pair of pants- he already wore one pair and didn't want to pack too much. He thought it prudent to grab one of his mothers purses. It was a brown leather thing that looked less like a purse and more like something he'd seen once in a western film that seeds were shoved into, but he still shoved any money he found in it, the big crystal like perfume bottle she'd cleaned and filled with whiskey, and some random objects from the first aid kit in her bathroom.

“What are you doing Charles?” Cain had asked, mouth set in a thin line, disapproving. The small boy cautiously turned around on the chair he stood on so he could reach the bathroom counter, the purse settled in the sink, “nothing, Cain! I'm just. . . playing.” The older boys brow furrowed in concern, “in your mo-. . . in _her_ bathroom? Charles, come out of here. . .” he moved over to the brunette and lifted him down to the floor, grabbing the purse out of the sink and handing it to him, “lets go play somewhere else.”

Cain guided them back to the hall, closing Sharon's door behind him, he looked uneasy. “Charles, what's in that. . . is that a purse? Why do you have a purse?” There was no easy way for Charles to answer that, in fact, he wasn't sure how to“I- it's personal. . .” he tried, trailing off and staring at the ground, one of Cains large hands came to rest on his shoulder, he looked up to the smiling face of his step-brother, “oh, I see. Okay, well, it's okay with me. Just don't let Kurt or anyone outside the house find out, okay? There are many people out there who won't be nice about it.” The younger boy didn't really understand what Cain meant, but he figured he'd be able to hide it under his jacket either way.

They went back to Charles' room, where he hid the bag under the bed, and Cain and he played Concentration. Cain was a lot older than Charles, sixteen, and bigger; he was tall and a bit wide and very strong, he could take two garbage bags out at once! But Charles didn't mind having an older brother, especially one as big as Cain, it made him feel a bit safer- too bad the safe feeling didn't really help with actually being safe. Kurt was still bigger than the both of them, and stronger, and angrier.

“Are you alright?” the larger boy asked, “spacing out.” Charles wondered if he could take Cain away from this place too, away from Kurt and the beatings and the on-off electricity and the lack of food because Kurt forgot to order more food and didn't trust them with money. He shook his head, “I'm fine.”

That night Charles did not get dressed for bed and bundle under the covers listening for the footsteps of Kurt if he should approach in one of his moods, instead he pulled on his black jacket, the one that reached his knees, and his brown shoes, the ones that covered his ankles. He pulled his back pack on and cut the strap of the purse so he could tie it around his hips tightly and keep the bag bit at his side so nobody else would see it because Cain said people wouldn't like seeing it on him. It looked cooler on his hip anyway.

He cautiously shut his bedroom door and crept down the hallway, he wondered again if he should take Cain with. . . but Kurt was treating him better now, he'd refrained from hitting him as far as Charles could tell, not that the neglect got much better though. He didn't have time to hesitate to think anymore, he heard a door slam shut and hurriedly walked down the steps, on the last step he heard a deep voice on the phone, Kurt, and his shadow getting closer. Charles' heart pounded, if Kurt caught him he would surely die that very night, he couldn't take any more. He could not take any more.

The boy surged forward and ran as fast as he could, and he was pretty fast if he said so himself, trying to make it to the living room. The voice was getting closer, he knew he wouldn't make it. 'Please, please. God? Zeus? Loki? Mom? Someone or something up there, out there?! Please help!” he pleaded, then everything moved in slow motion. He saw a window, barely open in the living room, but enough to let air in. Charles had no time to think, he opened the window as much as he could without it creaking and tumbled into the bushes. The voice got closer and he didn't move, didn't breathe, instead choosing to hide. The window slammed shut, Kurt's face was directed to the area ahead of him, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come into view.

Charles finally breathed and ran from it all.

 

-

Erik crept about the Children's Home and managed to find a small duffel bag, which he filled with canned goods, matches, a canteen, and a small pot. He filled his backpack with two pairs of socks, four pairs of boxers, one pair of blue jeans, a pair of black pants that felt like jeans to him, and four shirts (two long sleeved and two short sleeved). He also shoved the picture of his mother into the pack and the loose change from the jar atop the fridge. The other children eyed him suspiciously, as if not quite sure what to make of what he was doing, but they kept their mouths shut, Erik's glare enough to make them mind their own business.

He made to move back to his room to see what else he could stow away before leaving, but a hand grabbed him roughly. “What the hell do you think you're doing you big nosed freak?” Spat an older child who went by the name Martin, Erik stared at him furiously, “mind your own business, your small mind couldn't comprehend it.” his voice, thick with accent and growing deeper and more dangerous by the day, sliced through the air like a blade, no hesitance. The boy growled, “you are stealing, that pack is full. Do you know what that means for us? You think it's okay to screw all of us over?”

“No,” Erik responded, “however, if you keep your mouths shut and ration your food then Shaw will not notice and none of you will have to go into the hole or be hurt.” He pulled his arm away, “you know exactly what I'm doing.” The tall boy walked away, and back to his bedroom. That night everyone was silent, Shaw checked on every one of them and seemed satisfied with the state of the house; where he went every day instead of taking care of it, nobody really knew, but they made their own assumptions by the perfume wafting off of him. One child had said she overheard that he was seeing someone named Miss. Frost, to discuss “business”, but there were other rumors that he was actually going to his other job or that he visited the race track. It was good for them, it meant that they only had to deal with the abuse early in the morning or at night- though he didn't leave the house every day, and that was a real shame.

“Why so quiet?” Shaw asked one of the boys rooms, nobody said a word, “tired? Did you perhaps play too much today? Hmm?” You could hear the smile creeping from that nasty hole in his face he liked to call a mouth, “Well, it's a nice change, silence.” Don't sneeze, don't breathe deeply, Do. Not. Cry. When. He. Stares. Make sure that bed doesn't creek. He inspected every room, Erik went rigged when he entered, the backpack was with the others in the closet, he prayed Shaw didn't look into it- it was irrational, Shaw never took an interest in the contents of the backpacks, just that they were properly placed in the closet, and Erik had made darn sure they were placed correctly.

Erik lay there without moving as their caretaker looked from one side of the room to the next, walking up and down the room with a wicked smile on his face, “very good. Very good.” He exited the room and moved onto the next, nobody ever relaxed until the last door had closed to the last room. “Go,” whispered the boy, Robert was his name, beside his bed, tan face barely lit by the street lamp shining through the blinds, “Martin is going to tell on you.” The tall boy shot up in bed and ran to the closet, he grabbed his back pack and cautiously went to the door, opened it, and looked down the hall to the still open doors, Martin was soon.

The German boy looked to the ceiling, took a breath, and slipped out the door and down two flights of stairs, stepping carefully to avoid the creaky ones, it was a terribly slow process. He managed to make it out the back door, but there was a scream from inside the house; it was Robert. There was no time to worry about others, he hauled his backpack over a shoulder, climbed the fence, and landed on the other side before promptly running in the direction of Charles' home.

-

The two boys smacked into one another, but practically hyperventilating and both shaken. Erik grabbed Charles' hand and they got up, “Shaw knows, I don't think we don't have much time before people start to look for us.” the taller boy said with dread. “It's fine,” huffed out Charles, “we need to get out of this place tonight then. Lets go to the train station now, we'll be able to get on and go, we just need to not attract attention since the plan changed.”

Their sides burned, but they ran and ran and then jogged until they got into the station, out of breath and getting their tickets. Their train would come by in about twenty minutes, they just needed to keep out of sight until then. Hiding in the bathrooms was a good way to get caught, hiding in the mass of crowding people waiting was the better option. After ten minutes of waiting Erik was getting antsy and looking over his shoulder, he wanted to leave as soon as possible, get out of New York- a trip that would no doubt take a couple hours, “we do not have time for this.” he grouched to Charles who just furrowed his brow and stared at him with those serious and intelligent eyes, beckoning him to stop complaining.

“Don't give me the look, Shaw-”

“Shaw will not look for you Erik, at least not yet. If police are involved then they will no doubt check the surrounding area first, not the train station which is several blocks from the Children's Home. Calm yourself.” Charles sighed and stared at the tracks, eerily calm, which in turn made Erik less calm. By the time the train finally came, Erik wanted to hide in a trash can and Charles was thinking about giving his friend some of the whiskey from the perfume bottle, in order to calm him down. They boarded the train, sat down, and as it lurched forward, laughed- “almost too easy.” Erik commented, the English boys stomach sank, “yes. . . I agree.”


	3. Chapter 3

_**Part 3** _

 

 

The boys traveled until they thought they were a good distance from New York, which took longer because they barely had any idea what they were doing and ended up taking trains and buses more than they needed. They barely slept for the night and day on the train, or the next night they spent on a bus until it reached its station and they had to walk till morning. They ended up walking and made it to a pretty quiet town that seemed filled with woods and small shops, they didn't exactly know where they were, but figured that, maybe, it was better that way for now.

“We should stop in a library later,” Charles mentioned, “just because we are not in school, does not mean we should stop learning.” Erik eyed him warily, “I think, perhaps, our first priority is to find a place to sleep the night. Trains and buses do not provided-” “Provide, Erik, past tense.” “Thank you,-very good sleeping spots.”

Despite the slightly forlorn look on Charles' face, he did agree with Erik and they counted up the money, which they also agreed was simply not enough for a place to stay. “The woods?” he asked, the older boy looked at the surrounding area, “I suppose it is our most. . . abundant, option.” They hiked the straps of their bags over their shoulders and entered the woods, traveling along a chain link fence until it's end, as they entered what they assumed wasn't private property they came across fallen branches, moss, rusty barbed wire, and plenty of mud and feces.

“Charming,” said Charles, with a grin, “this will be my first time camping, what about you, my friend?” He questioned, hopping about on the larger branches strewn upon the forests floor, twisting with grays and greens as though the earths spindly fingers were trying to run it's hands through the dirt. “With my mama, once, and my papa- he was there too. It was hot and dry and it was an easy way to get food. We collected fish and my mama found rabbits to eat.” he grimaced at the memory, “the fish were at least seemingly more mindless. I didn't like the rabbits.” Charles would have to agree there, he imagined food tasted so much better when he didn't have to kill it. Disdain bubbled in the brunets stomach, if they ran out of food and money, they would probably have to kill. He'd rather be a vegetarian.

About three miles into the woods they put down their bags and collected dry branches to start a fire. Luckily they had matches and fluid to do it, they didn't really have the proper equipment to do it like real campers. The two looked around and their faces became solemn, hearts beating a little faster than usual. There was a buzz of insects, the low moan of wind blowing branches up ahead, and little else; they were surrounded by tall trees, so tall they had to tilt their heads all the way back just to see the sky; with civilization so far off, and the very real possibility that if they forgot which way to turn, they could possibly die in the woods, they felt claustrophobic and there was a splash of realism plastered into their brains. They tried not to think too much about it, remaining calm and choosing to do mundane tasks, such as hovering a pot of soup above the fire to cook it.

The soup tasted like any other soup, and they were rather thankful for that, and only ate one can in order to stretch what they did have; they were both used to being a little hungry and so it was easy to ignore the bubbling of their stomachs, it went away after about an hour. “Maybe we should sleep in a tree,” Erik said, staring at some of the lower branches and wondering if they could maybe climb up to one, “we don't know what kind of animals are around here.”

So, they stood at the base of a tree, one with branches that they might be able to reach. Erik started first by running at the tree and trying to get some lift from the bark, but he wasn't able to get to the lowest branch any better. Charles gripped the sides of the bark and hung there like a Koala, “Alright, now try to climb. . .” Erik said, after watching his friends arms shake as he clung there, not moving, for five minutes. “Can't I just sleep here, like this?” Charles asked in a high pitched voice, but trying to climb a little at a time anyway. Erik laughed, “you are only about as high as my head right now.”

By the time Charles was back on the ground, his hands were scarred and they decided that maybe they should find a tree with even lower branches. “Lets buy some rope. . .” Charles suddenly said, “we can tie ourselves to the branches so we don't fall, rope can't cost that much.” Erik nodded, “sounds like a good idea, but we're already out here, maybe tomorrow?” The English boy agree and they managed to find a tree with lower branches, Charles could reach one while on Erik's shoulders. “You're too light,” the German boy mumbled, “and short.” He earned a well deserve flick at his ears and a light laugh. Charles managed to grab the branch and pulled himself up until the branch was pressing into his ribs and he was losing air trying to get up, but he thankfully did get up.

Erik climbed like a Koala a bit up the tree, his friend scooching over so when he did get to the branch he could grab it and force himself onto it, only worrying for a few moments that he would fall back down. The bags were placed onto a shorter branch just above theirs, safe. They both breathed heavily, feet dangling; Erik rested his back against the trees base, “come here,” he told the brunette, reaching his arms for the other. Charles smiled, hesitantly scooted to the other and carefully turned around until his back was to Erik's torso, the others arms wrapping around him.

“Erik?” Charles asked, breathless.

“It'll all be okay.” Erik whispered into the others hair, holding tight.

They were a single silhouette as the sun lowered, together, nothing more.

-

They ran through the forest, dirty and wild and laughing as only kids can; Erik had longer legs and could move farther, but Charles was genuinely quick. “I'm going to win!” Erik had catcalled the other, not expecting Charles to burst into a sprint and pass him like a crisp wind- he stared ahead and picked up his pace, a shark like grin on his face, feet slamming hard against dry soil. They got back to the road panting and sweaty and passing the canteen back and forth. It didn't occur to them to conserve energy, and they couldn't care less, there was too much more to do and energy that felt restrained in the past couple of days sitting about on trains and buses and walking the forest.

There were plenty of shops in the town; car shops, bread shops, shops for ladies clothes, shops for alcohol, shops for shoes, and even one for hardware. They entered the hardware shop and went to the cashier, “excuse me?” Charles attempted to get the woman’s attention as she read through receipts, she eyed them silently, “um, yes, do you have any rope?” She pointed a plump finger to aisle three and went back to the pieces of paper without a word. It was a tad. . .creepy.

Needless to say the boys got out of there as soon as they could with enough rope to tie a rather fat man to a tree.

–

_Meanwhile_

–

Mr. Sebastian Shaw was refusing to even file a report on the missing child, for now. He figured the boy would be back within the week, the boy only had fourteen days before the school started complaining of his absence, but he'd worry about that later. The other children were being punished accordingly, on Erik's behalf; he smiled and received a cold look from his lover. Emma sat cross legged across from him in the restaurant; he could smell her perfume coming off in waves from her wavy blonde hair, her lips were a pale thin line of stern indifference.

“What has you in such an adequate mood?” She examined her nails, waiting for her white wine to be brought out. “Oh, nothing dear.” he said with a sickening smile, she knew it was the opposite of nothing, “How are those children you care for?” She questioned severely, his smile widened, “naughty.”

-

Cain didn't know where Charles was, at first he thought the other was just with his friend, the one he met at the Children's Home, but then he didn't come home during the night either. He thought maybe Charles was having a sleepover and forgot to tell him in his excitement, not that the younger boy had ever had a sleepover anyway, but there were first times for everything. After a couple days and still no sign of his brother, he grew nervous and decided to venture to the Children's Home, it was, after all, the only place Charles ever talked about besides school- he didn't think his brother had any friends besides the boy that lived there.

Unfortunately, the children there were no help and the caregiver was nowhere to be found. They wouldn't let him in the gate, they wouldn't tell him where Charles or Erik were, they acted as though the names didn't ring any bells and that Erik had never existed- his patience grew thin after the fifth time asking. “Where is your caretaker?!” He snapped, “get him, get him now.” his voice was a low rumble.

“He's not here.” An older girl snapped back, “he wont be back until seven, he said to us.” and just like that, Cain had no idea what to do. His brother was gone and he didn't know what he could tell Kurt or who to go to. “I'll wait,” he decided, “for him to get back.” And wait he did, he sat outside those bars for several hours as children kicked balls at the fence and called him names and told him again and again that Erik and Charles didn't exist- as if they were trying to drive him away.

It was dark by the time an actual car stopped in front of the Children's Home, and out stepped a man he knew could only be Sebastian Shaw. He stood up and as Shaw approached him he blocked the older mans way through the gate, “Where are Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr?” White suit, the man stepped forward, back straight and a smile you just wanted to rip off his face, playing on his lips, “I haven't seen either in a couple days.”

Cain's eyes widened, he launched forward and grabbed Shaw by his tie and spat out into his face, “WHAT HAPPENED TO THEM?!” He tightened the tie, the other mans face transforming into a grimace, “I'm not sure.” he ground out stubbornly. Cain released him, “Tell me, or I'll have you screwed over faster than you could imagine. You left minors alone for extended periods of time, I'm sure an investigation would ruin you.”

Shaw stared at the boy, squinting his eyes and trying to see the lie, somewhere, anywhere- “I don't know where they went. Erik left in the night, I haven't seen your brother.” The boy stared at him, anger seeping from every pore, he began walking away. He'd have to tell Kurt then.

-

__


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DEVELOPMENT! DEVELOPMENT! Yes, in this chapter things develop a little further!

**Part 4**

 

“I want to keep moving.” Said Erik one afternoon and another can of soup settling in their bellies, “we can't just stay in one spot. If we are being looked for then we should keep moving.” Meanwhile, Charles had an uncertain look on his face, “we've only been here for a day or so and haven't really searched it, I think we should scour the town for materials and food first.” Erik really didn't want to scour, he wanted to keep moving, figuring they could find materials on the way, Charles wanted to play it safe and calm, which he didn't think they had time for at the moment. “How about we spend an hour looking and then start walking again?” Though the English boy didn't exactly agree, he thought it best to compromise, especially when Erik sometimes tended to edge towards paranoia and a simmering passive aggression.

After the trek back to town they found themselves rooting through trash cans and sneaking into donation bins, they avoided the police by ducking into buildings and hiding under trash until what they figured might be danger, passed. In the end they found a lot of useless junk, no food, a tarp Charles thought they might be able to fashion with the rope to make some sort of shelter, and a sharp piece of metal that Erik pocketed. He said he wanted it for protection, should they need it, and Charles saw nothing wrong with it, so didn't press further.

By two in the afternoon their sore feet were slapping against the road, off to somewhere they weren't sure would be safe, but they were confident and perhaps a little arrogant so didn't worry too much more. It wasn't until they ran out of water and the packs sagged their shoulders, the moon barely lit their path and their eyes burned as though sand had gotten in them, that they felt a growing need to get to a destination- any destination. The road stretched on for miles and there was a chance they wouldn't hit a gas station or store for hours; their bones ached and the packs were heavy, but they didn't want to stop, not yet, not until there was some form of street light, some sign of civilization.

Fear periodically gripped them, when the moon hid and the road was like black ice; it could have been and they would have been none the wiser. Deep into the night they walked, pace sluggish, yet minds active. It became apparent to them, as the sky hung heavy with the child of night, that something was missing. . . What may have been adrenaline surged through Charles, he stopped walking and he grabbed Erik's shirt.

“Erik,” he whispered, as if the oppressing dark would be offended by his volume, “what?” Erik's voice crackled out, far too loud, making both their stomachs sink at it's displacement. “Erik, the place has gone silent.” And so it had, while previously there had been the chirping or flutter of insects, at least one flying here or there, now there was nothing but a drowning silence too stifling to even echo their voices.

Erik stiffened, the pair looked about them, “keep going.” the taller boy commanded, and suddenly their sluggish strides were more fast pace, without breaking into a full run. There was a rustle, the forests that engulfed the empty road shaken, but tonight there was no wind strong enough for it. Behind them they could hear the soft padding of another, Charles felt what must have been a frozen corpses nail embed itself into his spine and run along it like nails on a chalk board- creating a tremor within him that may as well have frozen his heart; he turned around in his cold terror and faltered his swift walk.

He felt his feet hesitate for but a moment, Erik breathless beside him, pausing himself in an attempt to take in whatever could possibly be before them; Charles grabbed Erik's wrist, whispered a harsh “run,” and yanked him forward. They ran at full pace, bodies throbbing in the effort to continue. The form behind them was breaking into a panting sprint, Erik's chest welled in heat, he gripped the sharp metal in his pocket, whipped around and just as he was about to plunge it into one of the eyes of the beast there was a bright light and the sound of a gun loading and a soft shot firing out.

.

.

.

The beast fell limp.

 

A woman half hung out an old pick up truck, her eyes slits as she eyed the two boys through the blinding light of her headlights and the swarming black of the night. She opened the door to the pick up and jumped down, slamming the door shut and marching forward. Erik took a step back, Charles didn't move, just stared down at the creature in both relief and remorse. “Don't worry, just tranquilizer.” She bent down to the animal and removed a dart, “we've got a little while before it wakes up, Coyotes. . . might be more, we should get out of here. C'mon.” She pointed her thumb back to the truck, an order to get in. She bent down to the animal and gently dragged it to the side of the road, probably so it wouldn't get run over.

A large truck zoomed past them, but other than that, the road had all the appearance of being vacant. The woman ushered the two boys into the pick up, where there was only one large front seat, much to their amazement- except hers. She looked pleasant enough with red hair and hazel eyes that almost looked yellow, curvy and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. She had a smile playing on her lips, “What brings you boys here then? A little late and a little far from a town, don't you think?” The truck started up and they begun to move.

“Where are you taking us?” Erik demanded roughly, she eyed him, “where do you want to go?” The atmosphere was tense, Charles rested a hand on his friends shoulder, “calm yourself. Miss, I'm sorry, but how far are you going?” She smiled, no, grinned, “Well, definitely not to England, I'm only going as far as the state line for Maryland. It's pretty far from here, but let me guess, you'll be coming till then?” Erik nodded vigorously, Charles sighed in his friends direction, “we don't want to be any trouble, but if you could get us that far, that would be very nice.” She seemed to understand, “run away's then.”

Erik practically snarled at her, “none of your business,” but she didn't seem phased. “Listen, kid, I'm not going to turn you guys in, you're both obviously running from something, you've both got plenty of time before our final stop to tell me. Just chill.” The tall German boy certainly did NOT want to chill. How dare she tell him to! But. . . Charles seemed to trust her, of course he was always too trusting. “What's your name?” he asked, to which she replied, simply, “Raven.”

“Erik.”

“Charles.”

“Candy bar?” She offered.  


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're getting closer to the end, dear readers. So close I can almost smell it. 
> 
> Smells like. . . dry grass, wafting pine, and salt water.

_**Part 5** _

 

Raven, it turned out, originally lived in a small town in Kentucky, but would take trips to see a woman named Irene in an isolated town somewhere in Maryland. She didn't say much about the Irene woman, but she did mention that she didn't often get to visit her because of the distance. They both had jobs and it was difficult just to get time off; Charles wondered what they both did for a living while Erik wondered what Raven had to eat. “So, that explains what I'm doing so far from home, what about you two?” She asked, several hours into the trip when their butts were hurting and she was refusing to stop until everything was cleared up.

“Again, none of your business.” Erik snapped, Charles glared at him, which was actually a little more unnerving than most people would think. With a calming breath, Charles stared at her, “we're basically running from people.” She looked surprised, then grinned, “ooh, like, the law? No! You two are secretly agents of the government!” Erik grimaced to keep from smiling, Charles shrugged, “well, I suppose we could go with that.”

As they got more comfortable, chatting about everything and anything, Erik found himself rummaging through her glove box and playing with the window on his side. “I've got some jerky if you want some,” she commented, “really? Would you be willing to share?” Charles questioned excitedly, he'd never had jerky, but it sounded like food and hey could always do with food. Raven pulled a baggie of what looked like meat from the door pocket on her side and tossed the bag to him.

The jerky smelt strong, spicy, and tasted like nothing Charles had ever had before. Erik, apparently, had in fact had some before. “Deer.” he said, Raven just nodded, Charles stopped chewing. They passed by actual deer not long later, and he stopped eating the jerky entirely. They did eventually stop at a 24 hour pancake house to pee and grab some food, Raven offered to pay, but Erik did not want to be in more debt than they already probably were from the ride. She just shook her head, “I don't need gas money, or any money from you two. You're on the way, and hey, I'm driving a long way, gets lonely. Your company is payment, now pick something from the damn menu.”

Grudgingly, Erik eventually did get something, pancakes, eggs, sausage, and coffee; eating as much as he could without creating discomfort. Charles, meanwhile, settled on soup and orange juice. “That's all you're gonna eat?” the older boy asked, “we're offered food, and you eat the same thing we've been eating for the past several days?” he raises an eyebrow, looking every bit like he knew better. “Well, we shouldn't take advantage of Raven,” he whispered harshly to the other. Erik scoffed, “when your food options are usually short or restricted and you don't have a big house with food at your disposal, you find that when you take an offer you won't have to pay back, you should **really** take it.”

Charles stared at Erik, his stomach sinking, it was almost like the other was accusing him of being too accustomed to a variety of food, but he wasn't sure, but just what kind of life did Erik think he'd been living. “I don't have to **find** out anything, Erik. I know what it's like.” - “Whatever.” The subject should have been dropped when Erik said that, his temper flaring was not something Charles wanted. . . usually. “Excuse me, but not _whatever_.” The small brunette snapped, his blue eyes horribly wide and red lips in a scowl that Erik wasn't accustomed to, “I don't like what you insinuated.”

Raven, meanwhile, was stabbing at her egg yolk with a piece of toast and staring at them like they were an interesting movie, “you two having a lovers spat?” She asked, making the two boys jolt in their seats. Charles sighed in frustration and went back to eating his soup, albeit uneasily after that. He wasn't one for confrontation, it just made his nerves grind, hands shake and sweat. He forgot what different people he and Erik actually were; it was true, Charles did know what it was like to have good food at his disposal, but he also knew what it was like to save for food, to be forgotten, to go hungry. Erik on the other hand knew what it was like to not get enough to keep going, to never be forgotten, and sometimes not being forgotten was not a good thing.

The German boy stared at his friend for a long time and then ducked his head, finishing his meal. When they got back onto the road it was quiet, except for the rattling of the trucks back, the gravel of the road, and the occasional chatter of Raven who was trying hard to slice through the silence.

“ _I really like peaches.”-”Red is in fact my natural hair color. Are those your real eyes, blue?”-”I'm terrified of tractors. No good can come from them.”-”I'm not allowed in this one bar in Colorado.”_

Try as she might, the two boys were set on staying quiet, but they were only kids, so she figured that they would at least attempt to say something to one another soon.

By the time the sun was setting, the red head pulled into a parking lot and turned the truck off, “sleep time, I suggest you get comfy.” She curled up in the drivers seat, fetal position, obviously used to it- while Erik tried to keep his distance from Charles, propping up against the window and remaining rigid. Charles didn't sleep until early morning. His head had lolled onto Erik's shoulder, drooling and hugging the boys arm in what had to be one hell of a death grip. The truck was already moving and it seemed Raven and Erik had been chattering for a while. “Mmph,” he mumbled, pushing Erik's shoulder, “be softer.” he muttered and hunched forward, face into his knees.

“Someone is a ball of sunshine this morning.” Raven chirped, Erik just laughed and ruffled his friends already messy hair. “We're almost there,” the woman said softly, it hadn't taken long, they wondered if they hadn't gotten so far from New york after all, Raven knew these roads by heart though, so she probably knew short cuts. The boys almost didn't want the trip to be over, mostly because walking was killer on the feet, but also because Raven was really quite an interesting and kind woman; though Erik would never in a million years admit to liking the crazy woman who shoved jerky in her mouth while talking and drove over every single pot hole and bump she could find.

Charles sat up groggily, his butt was numb and face lined from being pressed into Erik's shirt. He turned to look at his taller friend, who was smiling at him. . . “what?” He asked, but Erik said nothing, just shook his head and continued smiling like some shark that had just gotten a terrific lunch. Erik just couldn't get over the appearance of the small boy so. . . there was no proper word for Charles in the morning, it was a sight to behold though. He wondered how much longer he'd get to see the other like that, there was no way this could possibly last.

-

They arrived in the driveway of miss Irene something-or-other, dirty and smelly and hungry. “Well. . .” she commented, “I think I should spray you all down in the yard. . .” Irene had short brown hair, graying at the temples, and thick glasses and olive skin, high cheek bones and laugh lines near her lips. She looked to be older than Raven, but not without a pleasant humor. The house was yellow with white shutters- dusted with dry dirt; the grass was tall and dry, smelling of old weathers must and the beginnings of what promised to be a hot season ahead. The flower garden overrode the outside of the house, climbing it and making it look as though the plants were bathed in a lemon meringue sun.

It looked like a proper home, warm and safe and loving. Raven kissed Irene tenderly, somberly, almost sad- Charles wondered why. The two women separated, Erik's own face became a mask of something incomprehensible, inside his mind was doing somersaults. Suddenly Erik's eyes were hot beams on Charles' neck, causing a warmth to spread through the smaller boy, it was a confusing feeling. “At least shower before you two leave.” Raven suddenly said, Erik's eyes flashed away, as if he hadn't realized what he was doing.

Erik went first, and Charles sat on the floor of the living room. Irene didn't have a couch, just a couple arm chairs that she must have found on the side of the road, because one was a pus orange color while the other was deep purple and overstuffed; her taste was mismatched, which made Raven perfect for her, the woman was a mix of so many things herself that perhaps she was influencing and spreading her Raven-ness upon the world, the boy hoped so, the world would be a better place that way.

Suddenly a slightly damp towel was being thrown at his head, shadowing the green walls and blocking his view of the perpetrator. He pulled the towel off and glared at Erik, dressed in a clean-ish shirt and pants. Charles headed off towards the bathroom, the German seemed to watch him as he retreated. Something icy, hard, gripping, took Erik's throat, his voice- he knew this couldn't last. This peace and freedom wasn't something that could last for them, and he so desperately wished it would. A feeling of anxiety bubbled in his stomach at the thought.

-

Kurt didn't care enough to search for the boy, he'd be back, come crawling back hungry and needy and then the school would stop it's bitching. He slammed a beaker harshly down, Cain standing in the shadows of the lab, teeth gnashing and nails gripping his palms. It had been way over the suitable amount of time a minor could be missing from home without police involvement, “I'm going to call for a search,” he snapped, for what felt like the millionth time since his little brother ran from home.

 

“No. Leave.”

Cain advanced on his father, “No. You listen to me, there is a little boy out there somewhere-” he seemed bigger than his stooped father now, and used it to push his father back, to get him to pay attention. “-we are going to find him.” Kurt sneered, “and waste money? All the better if he's dead. He is no longer my problem.”

 

Something snapped in the young man then, he grimaced, Kurt took a cold glance at the boy, then Cain smiled.

He smiled slow.

A smile like curdled blood, allotted with chunks, thick and bubbling in the heat of sick anger threatening to corrode like acid to all that opposed it's path.

 

Cain backed from the room and walked away, leaving his father pasty and gray faced.

-

One step.

Another step.

They turned, waving, Raven and Irene in the drive way waving almost sadly as they hoisted their packs on their backs- packed with more food than they originally had, more than they thought was a good idea to carry, but they found you could not deny Irene's cooking without feeling as though you were killing a bunny. Charles would remember her address, when he and Erik settled into a new home for themselves, perhaps they could visit.

“Race you?” Erik suggested, already picking up pace in his walk.

“To where?”

“Does it matter?”

No. . . he didn't suppose it did.

They ran and ran, Charles picking up speed and running like he was born to do it, heart hammering and face flushed and grinning. The sun hit him, the other boy glowed and it made his chest squeeze tight and eyes prick with unwanted water.

-

They wandered Maryland roads, sticking their thumbs out, Erik hitchhiking, Charles acting like the ladies on the television and sticking out his leg in a way Erik wasn't sure he should laugh about or scold for. “You will attract creepy truckers, stop it.” The taller boy groaned out as people honked their horns at his goofy friend, “stop!” he eventually grabbed Charles by the hips and hauled him over his shoulder, “hey!” he shouted, squirming. Erik placed him gingerly back onto his feet, mouth stone, but eyes clearly amused.

It seemed as though whatever disagreement they had in the diner Raven had taken them to was very far away now, as they spent time together, they just craved more time- more good moments and more talking to fill the air around them, make gravity shut down with their content company. Erik took Charles' hand as they walked, fire bubbled through their stomachs, their veins.

“Where should we go?” the smaller of the two asked, looking up at the other, who shrugged and tried to think what Maryland even had. “We could go to the beach?” Charles' nose wrinkled, “that's a bit far, a lot of miles.” Erik grinned, shark-like, “got anywhere else to be?”

 

To the beach it was.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Part 6** _

 

Lights flashed by, disorienting, swelling the deep dark roads, leaving behind the scent of gasoline and rubber that made the two young boys heads swim. Erik figured they were about to enter a very busy highway and that they were best to stay very close to the edge of the road while there still was an edge; they had many miles to water, or at least that's what they assumed. . . they were a little busy trying not to get thrown 500 feet by a car going 60 MPH.

“We should stop and ask, there has to be a shop or something soon.” Erik murmured, the map that they originally had just wasn't helping them any. It turned out that, no, there wasn't going to be a shop or something soon, no, they just had to keep on walking for what felt like hours. Erik was clearly getting irritated and tired, in fact, he seemed to be getting steadily more tired since they left “home.” A lot of walking, very little sleep, little food- mostly canned, and the short reliance on Raven for food was wearing the other down, and Charles had to admit that he wasn't in the best shape either. He was thinking, perhaps, they should of tried to impose on Irene for a couple of days, just to rest up.

“The next shop or what have you, we'll use the phone and call for a bus.” Charles said quickly, his mind moving faster than even the cars passing them by, he was coming to an unsettling realization, but he wouldn't bring it up with Erik- at least. . . not now. “Can we really afford that Charles?” questioned Erik; Charles kept his eyes focused on the horizon, “yes.” He lied. Erik didn't look convinced, but nodded. “Look!” He pointed up ahead, dingy tan brick coming into view.

-

The brick building turned out to be a rather exposing clothing shop. “Why would anyone want to wear so much spandex?” Whispered Erik, cringing away from the material as they entered. The cashiers eyes widened, “Oh! You can't come in here if you aren't 18!” She exclaimed, throwing her hands out as if trying to telekinetic-ally push them out the door. Charles rose his hands, “we simply need to call for a bus, miss, may we use your phone?” The question came out hurriedly, lest she literally throw them out.

She looked thoughtful through her thick make up, she bit her lip, smearing lipstick on her top teeth, “well. . .okay, but please make it quick. It's in the back room, one of you may go.” The taller boy scowled at her while Charles followed her finger to the back and found the phone on the wall, the door swung behind him- only a silent buzz in the cement box of a room. Meanwhile Erik resisted snapping at the woman, he didn't understand why they weren't aloud in a store that sold horse riding equipment.

 

_'Charlie, they're looking for you now.'_

_**'What did you do?'** _

_'You've been gone too long. . .I. . .I called the police. Kurt's acting innocent, but. . .where are you?'_

_**'. . .'** _

_'Charles? Please. Please answer me.'_

_**'Goodbye Cain.'** _

_'Wait! Please! Charlie, please. . . please come back.'_

_**'I hear beeping in the background, who's with you?'** _

_'I'm sorry, Charles. . .so sorry.'_

**-Beep-**

_'Bus Transport, how may we help you?'_


	7. The Beach Scene

_**Part 7**_

 

Erik had his brow furrowed, jaw clenched and teeth grinding, he was obviously stressed about something; Charles put a gentle hand on the others knee and pressed his lips together until they faded white, seemingly sharing the nerves. Neither told each other exactly what they were thinking, maybe they should have, but they didn't, thinking the other too naive to understand their thoughts. The bus rumbled, shook from side to side, Charles gripped the edge of the seat with one hand and sighed as it rocked to a stop that almost made them both pitch forward into the back of the seat in front of them.

“It's our stop. . .” Erik said softly, standing from the sticky seat. They both walked off the bus, dimly aware at how little satisfaction they were getting from actually being at the beach, very aware at an electricity running through their veins, adrenaline and excitement for what. . . they weren't sure. As the bus jolted away, they stood there, transfixed by the scene before them.

 

 **** _Hot sand on toes, cold sand in sleeping bags,_ _  
__I've come to know that memories_ _  
__Were the best things you ever had_ _  
__The summer shone beat down on bony backs_ _  
__So far from home where the ocean stood_ _  
__Down dust and pine cone tracks_

 

The water was a bright orange, blinding and surreal and it went on for. . . for so long; Charles' stomach sank, he looked up to Erik who in turn looked away. They crouched down and sat on the ground, using their packs as back supports, besides the caw from gulls, the crash of waves, there was an oppressing silence from their mouths for an abnormal amount of moments in time. Finally, as a crab was lapped by the water, Erik shifted and began setting up a fire; a small flame, then Charles put a little alcohol on it and it rose in height.

That night they slept side by side, their thin arms finding solace in each others embrace as they slept. The air became dewy and thick and the misquitos bit their ankles; the night grew chill, comforting and blossomed to a quiet morning. The loud sun lapped at their toes, the sand had stuck to their skin. That morning they pressed their foreheads together and were unwilling to move or talk, lest the serenity be snatched by things they wish were beyond their concerns.

Fog had settled on the road behind them, impenetrable, they felt closed off from the world in a way that almost made Erik want to whisper vows into Charles' ear, and made Charles crave the warmth of his friends hands so he might press his chilled lips to the knuckles. They didn't quite know why it was that they wanted these things, to do these things, even thinking about it made it seem as though the reality of the day break would crumble; and that was no way to repay it for all it had done thus far.

 

 _**We slept like dogs down by the fire side** _ **  
****Awoke to the fog all around us** **  
****The boom of summer time**

 

There was a distinct rumble in the distance as nature itself awoke, water crashing into the log of an old pine tree. Their bones creaked as they stood to wander over, sitting on the old thing that must have sat there lonely for so long, waiting. Erik absentmindedly carved their initials into it with his scrap of metal while Charles kicked his bare feet at the water.

 

 _**We stood** _ _**  
**_ _**Steady as the stars in the woods** _ **  
****So happy-hearted** **  
****And the warmth rang true inside these bones** **  
****As the old pine fell we sang** **  
****Just to bless the morning.**

 

“Are you alright, my friend?” Asked the younger of the boys, finally breaking the silence, but he received no response, just a steady look. “Erik?” He whispered; finally, Erik sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes, “Charles. . . how long can you keep this up?” He paused, searching the others eyes, the English boy didn't react, just stared at the dark water. “I've been thinking, we need. . . we need to settle somewhere.” That got the Charles' attention, “we're kids. How do you want to do that?” he asked with a laugh.

 

 **Hot sand on toes, cold sand in sleeping bags,** **  
****I've come to know the friends around you** **  
****Are all you'll always have** **  
****Smoke in my lungs, or the echoed stone** **  
****Careless and young, free as the birds that fly** **  
****With weightless souls now.**

 

That answer revealed a lot, Erik swallowed heavily, “you don't want to,” he growled out sharply. Charles shook his head, “you misunderstand-” “No. No, Charles, _I want you by my side._ ” he snapped, “but this can't last! Being out hitchhiking. . . we need something more stable. Don't you want that?” Charles gave his friend a thoughtful look, “you're right, we can't. . . we can't keep hitchhiking.” there was finality in the statement that Erik didn't like.

 

_**We grow, grow, steady as the morning** _

 

Silence stretched on, the conversation slow and in need of support, like an infants head. They sat like that, until they heard tires on the road behind them. Charles tilted his head, in the way children do when a new sound comes in, and he could see it in the distance, vaguely through the mist. “Erik. . .” he looked to his friend, “I- I agree. This can't last.” The German boy looked where his friend had, to the slow pace of a random car, he swallowed what felt like rocks, “Erik, I'm afraid someone is coming for us.” It took a moment for the other to register.

 

_**We grow, grow, older still** _

 

“You- how do you. . .” he shot up from the log, “you bastard!” he cussed, “you called the police?!” his voice was a roar of jagged hurt, “no! Erik, no!” Charles exclaimed, standing, “I- I called my brother. . . h-he. . .”

 

_**We grow, grow, happy as a new dawn** _

 

“I thought I was your brother too!” Erik all but spat in the shorter boys face. “And you go and do this!?” His voice shuddered, breath ragged, Charles' lower lip trembled, chin weakening, he got up and backed away from the one person he never thought he'd have to back away from. “They won't _accept_ us in our own homes!” he said homes as if it were a rotten lie, which was fairly close to the truth, “we could form our own!” _Panic. Racing thoughts. More tires. A shiny car. Blue, Red, White. Coming._ It's like a drum, raising in volume, like a parade. So many cars, coming with purpose. “The adults had their chance to raise us and look how well that went!” They never stood a chance, did they?

 

_**We grow, grow, older still** _

 

Erik stepped towards Charles, a hand resting heavily against his friends shoulder, “please, Charles. _We're brothers, you and me._ _We can protect each other,_ start a home. _We want the same thing_.”

 

_**We grow, grow, steady as the flowers. . .** _

 

_'brothers'_

_That word whispered in Charles' mind, getting louder by the second._

_No. Not brothers, that's. . .he doesn't feel that._

The younger mans eyes gleam, “I'm sorry. . .but, we don't.” He croaked hoarsely. Something in Erik looked as though it broke, his breaths evened, eyes searching and hard, he turned to run and Charles grabbed his arm.

 

_**We grow, grow, older still** _

 

“Erik,” Charles' voice cracked, bleeding out with pain on the crackling ember of _'k'_ in Erik's name.

 

_**We grow, grow, happy as a new dawn** _

 

Large men in uniform were coming to a halt, Erik tried to run again, Charles pulled him back and dug his nails into his taller friends cheeks, dragging him down to a level closer to his face, he pressed his soft hot-pink lips against chapped milky strawberry.

 

_Erik tasted like dry grass, paved roads, crisp autumn, and glorious metal._

 

He pulled away, Erik looked broken and confused, his larger hands gripping Charles' wrists one last time, then the blue eyed boy released his friend _and Erik ran_.

 

_ Erik forgot how to breathe. _

 

Rough hands grabbed Charles, men chased Erik, his eyes burned, he found himself being hauled to the car.

 

_ Wetness pooled in the hollows beneath Erik's eyes. _

 

**We grow, grow, older still**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, perhaps, and then an epilogue?


	8. A Copper After Taste

_**Part 8: A Copper After Taste** _

 

There was a buzz of luminescence above their heads, tiny aroused bugs flickered about the caged light. A hollow _thunk_ brought attention back to the room, a can of soda was placed before him, he knew he would never get the taste of-. . .the taste out of his mouth; his eyes felt like they would forever burn, cheeks forever flush, heart forever be trying to slam out of his chest like a hammer through a thin paper drum. The hiccups had long since stopped, he'd made them stop, but he was left hoarse and numb and so very tired, but he knew that sleep would not come for him; he'd sleep in cool sheets instead of cool sand, beside nothing.

_He felt so empty and hopeless._

The man was trying to bribe him with the carbonated liquid, but Charles had no will to touch it, to make the effort to raise his hand and flick the top; the hiss would offer no comfort and the fizz only serve to make his throat more raw. “Care to tell me what happened, son?” The dark skinned officer, or was it detective, looked so sincerely concerned that Charles wished he could make his lips move easier, “I wanted. . .” he whispered, lips parted and wet, eyes scanning the disinfected table in front of him for a clue of what to say. “I just wanted to get away for a while.”

Officer-Detective only nodded, as if he understood, but the small brunette vehemently wanted to scream that he never could. “Were you bullied in school?” Charles weighed the pros and cons of telling the truth; this officer-Detective was young, obviously asking simplified questions, he decided that he'd get home faster if he just lied. “Yes. I was. I wanted to get away.” It wasn't a complete lie. Maybe if this man were Raven, he'd reveal it all, he missed her and wished she were here. He hadn't known something akin to a mothers comfort in so long. . . no, not just a mother, any fraction of parental comfort, he couldn't even remember the last time he had. Would the man let him call her? Would she keep him from going back to that cold mansion, keep him from going back to that _monster?_

“What about the boy that was with you?” Something shuddered through Charles, he raised his head a fraction, a stronger sound escaped his throat- and the Officer-Detective was jotting down notes, nodding, marginally more genuinely interested than he was a moment ago.

* * *

 

“I don't want that.” Erik growled, gray eyes trying to burn holes into the blonde woman before him. “That's okay, you don't need to drink it if you don't want to, it's just to loosen you up. Gotta bribe the runaways into talking somehow.” She crossed long shapely legs and picked non-existent lint from her white blouse, “So let's get right to the bottom of this, please tell me why you ran away.” Erik leaned forward in his seat, brow furrowed and teeth grinding, “to get away from Sebastian Shaw.” He stated, forcefully and full of rage.

Her eyes widened, a slow smile appeared on her lips, “really. . . how interesting. I've been investigating him.” The German boys lips thinned, his interest was peaked, he rose a questioning eyebrow; “Yes. Yes, it fits. You were from his orphanage, says it in print on your records. After your mother died you were practically shoved into a random orphanage, unlucky you, it was his. That's why you ran away, something was happening, tell me what it was and you won't have to go back.” She stated everything brusquely, holding back excitement, Erik could only guess why.

“He's abusive and neglectful.” he shrugged, the blond woman rolled her hand and wrist, “And. . . how?” her plump pink lips pursed together impatiently. Erik almost had to think about it, about the number of things, “he washes the children in icy bath water. . . he buys canned foods and expired freezer food, that's all the children eat- and they usually don't get three meals, sometimes not even two.” He ran a hand through his hair and stared at her, trying to think of what she could use, “he- there's a hole and he shoves the children he thinks misbehaved into it, for hours. No water, no food, no light, it can fit one person, he can make it fit three- but he leaves enough air.

I once misbehaved and. . . I wasn't watching a smaller child as closely, the kid broke something and he made her-” he shook his head, “made the kid stay outside all night during winter and by morning. . .froze to death.” he shivered, trying to stay in check, he couldn't lose control now. “He beats us and he's broken our bones- and. . .and, how much more do you need? What do you need to get it to stop?” he begged, slamming his hands onto the table ferociously, wide eyed and almost distant. His questioner tapped her pen after jotting it all down, nodding, “you just confirmed quite a lot for me. Two cases. . . two birds, one stone.”

She grinned, “your friend also put in a good word for you, don't worry, you won't be going back there- we actually have a place for you.” Her heels clicked against the tile as she uncrossed her legs and stood, leaning across the table to offer Erik her hand. He didn't hesitate to take it, she had a strong hand shake and a sharp smile and despite the hurt in his chest and head from the events of the last, who knows, several hours, the cold steel that had embedded in his gut since running away seemed to melt.

“Thank you, Erik, you can exit the room now and we'll meet later.” She led him to the door, opened it slowly, patting his shoulder. He cast one last look at her, “thank you, Miss. Frost.” And then he was with an officer, being led away from the cold room. He wondered where Charles was, he wondered what was going to happen to him, and he wondered why that woman’s name was so familiar.

* * *

* * *

 

“Hello dearie, c'mon, don't stand there gawking at me like that! We've got things to do, papers to sign.” Erik was, in fact, “gawking” at her and before he knew it he was slamming into her, knocking her back a couple steps and making her rumble with laughter, she let a hand rest at the back of his head. They stood like that for a while, a wetness forming on her shirt and her own eyes yearning for tears she didn't know she could possess for a child. They separated and he smiled up at her, “should I call you Aunty, sister, or mummy?” She rolled her eyes and he chuckled, “we've got plenty of time to figure that out.”

 _That very day the papers were signed, a boy who had survived so much hurt took a new last time, and Raven Darkholm became a mother_.

* * *

* * *

 

Large hands dragged him away from the cold station, he didn't even get to see his friend, to say goodbye. He would cry, but his eyes were dry and burned to the point he thought he could no longer produce tears. In the parking lot he noted a head of red in the distance, his stomach flipped and a smile broke out on his face at the success, it made his own trouble bearable- and boy, was he in some trouble. Kurt wasn't going to let this slide; Charles had interfered with his research by making him miss work, he'd cost him time he could have been spending on himself.

The drive home was suffocating, and the mansion was no better. It was still loveless and cold and dark from unpaid electricity; and the floors were still quite hard, never taking a softer matter, and he only knew this when his step father was pressing his face into the floor and snarling at him like a deranged drug sniffer that thought they were a dog- he half wondered if maybe he should suggest to Kurt that he take a less stressful job than the sciences and instead become a drug dog at the police station.

Like any animal, Kurt eventually did grow bored of raving and beating and walked away to hide in his lab, or in the bathroom to ease bowels that were obviously upset by his fury. When he thought Kurt was out of earshot, he grinned and got up from the floor- he felt an odd humor, an odd sort of. . .joy? No, certainly not joy, but he didn't really take Kurt seriously anymore and was comfortable with the thought that one day that man would be gone and in the meantime he'd ridicule him in his mind. Yes. . . his mind was his new sanctuary.

He found himself laughing in his room when Cain slipped in. He found himself laughing, and laughing, and laughing; his brother stared at him, and he kept laughing until it hurt. Then he was crying and heaving into the larger boys arms; for Erik, for himself, for not being able to rid himself of the taste of copper- the taste of metal, of Erik. The only light he could see was in his memories of his dear friend, and of the happiness he knew would come for the other. Cain pressed his lips into his brothers hair, rubbing small circles into his back, whispering _“I'll take care of you.”_


	9. Chapter 9

_**Epilogue** _

 

“New York! Ah! It smells terrible~!” A curvy woman threw her hands into the air, reaching up with all her fingers, “c'mon, hurry up!” She turned around and started walking backwards, somehow managing to avoid the stampede of people, shifting through them like a spirit. Erik let out a huff, brow furrowed and a scowl on his face, “you aren't carrying any bags, slow down.” She let out a chuckle, low and raspy, grabbing some bags from her son and continuing on at a swift pace.

“Dear, please slow down, we are not spring chickens anymore!” Shouted Irene, who held on to Erik's now free arm. Raven scoffed, thin calloused hands on wide hips as she paused for them, “not a spring chicken anymore? I am so a spring chicken, I am full of springs.” Her red hair grew as she aged, hanging in a thick braid over one shoulder, nearly reaching mid stomach, it had gone white over time in some areas, but the red still shined through. Irene, meanwhile, remained brunette with only specks of gray appearing at her roots and near the ears; Raven suspected she dyed her hair, like a cheater!

Erik could only smirk at his mothers as they bantered, Irene was under the impression that age mattered at all to Raven, which by now she should know better. “Well, fine, be a spring chicken all you want, I will remain a slow, un-trampled, chicken!” Then came the rude faces and Irene was latched onto Raven instead of her son, who trailed behind them both at a reasonable pace. “Oh, look dear, a cab, we should take a cab there,” Irene pointed ahead to a parked cab; they got in and sat there silently. “Where to?” asked a young, not to mention handsome and probably straight, African American man whose name tag read 'Darwin.' Raven began digging in her purse, humming lightly as she pulled out papers and her reading glasses, she looked over the paper, “mm, he's still at the same address,” she handed to paper to the cab driver, he nodded, “I know the place,” and sped off. Erik swallowed dryly, he hadn't visited his friend in a over a year, it felt like such a long time, but he knew he was lucky it was so short a separation this time. In fact, Charles had dropped off the face of the planet up until fourteen or fifteen years ago and he'd only been able to visit his friend once a year since, having to be satisfied with calling. Raven had Charles' number from when they had first come to Irene's house, but when he tried to contact his friend, he never received an answer. He'd been. . . twelve, yes, twelve, and It was only after Erik had turned seventeen that he'd **finally** received the call.

 

_“Hello. . . is Erik home?” a small, hoarse voice questioned._

“ _Yeah, this is him, who is this? Can you speak up?”_

“ _Not really. Can't. Um. . . i-it's Charles.”_

_Erik hung up._

_Raven proceeded to yell at him and shoved the phone in his hands._

_He pressed re-dial, it rang a hospital, much to his surprise, and he was connected to room 117._

“ _Hello?” asked that tiny voice that drived steel through Erik's heart.  
“WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T YOU ANSWER ANY OF MY CALLS YOU SON OF A BITCH!”_

_And then that small voice burst out laughing, large, gasping, croaking laughs._

_Then an aching silence._

“ _Kurt just died.”And that explained everything._

“ _. . .how?” Erik really wanted to ask if his friend had killed him, and that's why he was in the hospital._

“ _Fire. Lab fire. There was a fight with Cain.”_

_More silence. Erik had heard enough silence from his friend for five and a half years._

“ _Talk.” he ordered._

“ _Kurt and Cain fought about Cain's career, about my custody. Kurt got rough, Cain got rough, the smoke alarms went off and I went in there to break them up, the fire caught everything. Um. . . uh, K-Kurt. . . he burned. He burned and he got us out.”_

_Erik let out a breath, what must that have been like to see? He wouldn't wish that on anyone._

“ _My-um. . . my. . . Erik, I got a bit burned. I'm in hospital. That one-”_

_Erik hung up again after saying nothing, and was already planning the flight with Raven and Irene._

 

A pot hole ended up shaking Erik from his memories, he wiped his large hand over his face, felt his mothers rest hands on his shoulder, he was usually calm on these visits, happy, but all he felt was nervous. “It'll be fine dear, it will be fine.” Irene smoothed back his hair, just as she had done when he awoke fearful in the night, or on picture days when she'd barge into the school the period before his picture was to be taken in order to grease his hair and comb it- the very thing he'd attempted to avoid that morning. They reached a seemingly endless, gaping, path that the trees nearly hid from view. It took twenty minutes to travel up the path, past an indefinite forest that must have contained all manner of demons; a hiding spot for children, a dark and barely visible opening somewhere that an unhappy wife could cry under the comforting veil of trees.

The estate itself was older than any of the people in the cab combined, passed down through who knows how many generations. The lawn was dry and a bit overgrown, much like how Irene usually liked the yard at home, leaves covering a good amount of the land. The windows pangs were a dingy red, repainted badly; some windows were clean, some were not, some had only a wiped circle to look out of from time to time, some you could not even reach. From the woods there was a man exiting with a pile of logs to keep the residents of the estate warm through the chilly autumn, Erik recognized him as Cain. Cain had grown to be a very tall, broad, man with a strong jaw and crooked nose. He wasn't overly handsome, but definitely not ugly; he noticed them immediately and grinned, jogging over like a great bear who'd discovered an endless supply of honey.

Erik stepped from the car and helped Irene out, Raven threw open her door and practically tackled the great big man to the ground, nobody was ever truly a match in strength for her it seemed. She squeezed the life out of him and then scrutinized, “you are getting too much sun, and you're hunching, stand up straight. Are you eating enough? You're too tall to be skipping meals.” She found the need to be a mother hen to Cain and Charles whenever she visited, mostly because they let her get away with it all while Irene and Erik had learned better.

The door to the house was thrown open, banging into the wall and, Erik presumed, probably on the verge of snapping the hinges. Much like Raven, Charles had underestimated strength, and zero filter for his excitement more often than not. Erik could only stare at the other man; the sun that filtered through the surrounding trees made him look surreal, made that pale face glow. He wore a plain black t-shirt and kahkis, a pencil behind one ear and a dishtowel in his pocket; he'd grown thinner since last Erik had seen him, never able to keep on weight for very long with his hectic schedule to keep anyone satisfied; he hadn't shaved in a while, a near ginger stubble flecked his jaw, and he hadn't slept, dark circles below beautiful blue eyes that would make the moon jealous. Erik's heart hammered as he looked at this man, all his beauty, all his faults, all wonderfully Charles.

Erik had no time to wonder how he himself looked, he knew, all muscle and metal working hands and smoothed back hair with eyes more gray than green- he wasn't sure what to think about himself, but didn't have to, because in his admiration of his friend he didn't notice the other picking up speed or the cab leaving after Irene paid, he just noticed Charles, beautiful Charles, until it was too late. His eyes widened, “Charles, don-” it was too late, as stated earlier, Charles tackled the man to the ground and pushed their lips together, straddling the other and gripping his face tightly. Erik felt dizzy and euphoric and like he was having a heart attack!

Charles broke away, breathing heavy, Erik felt like he couldn't take in any air after that. He let his calloused hands grip the others upper arms, lovingly feeling the burns on the back of them that traveled to the mans shoulders and back. He stared into that face quietly, and Charles stared back, basking in each other, then Erik sat up and his friend sat cross-legged on the ground, “it is fifty degrees out here,” he growled, “it is **not** t-shirt weather.” This just made the other laugh and shake his head, grabbing the larger hands in his own and pulling him up, “well then, come in for apple cider and we'll warm up!”

Irene and Raven grinned at one another, Cain blushed madly at the scene, and Charles pulled Erik into the big house. They never heated the whole house, Cain and Charles, they took turn gathering wood from the surrounding forests and starting the fireplace up, preferring to cover up in blankets and sweaters and cook to keep warm. They ceased sleeping in their own bedrooms, instead sleeping in the living room with the fire. Every year Erik visited around the Autumn months and sure enough when he'd entered the estate, the smells of food and burning wood would be wafting throughout the place and even if some parts of the place were chilly, it was warm and felt like a home. It had never been a home, not until Kurt died and Cain took custody of Charles; the brothers made it into a home, a good home.

Raven and Charles retreated to the kitchen, leaving Irene, Erik, and Cain to sit in the living room. “So, where's your wife?” Asked Irene, and Cain shrugged, “visiting her mother and father in Chinatown,” Erik and Irene nodded in understanding, it was pointless to ask why Cain didn't go with, since his wife’s mother still hated him for not providing her grandchildren yet, at least her father liked him though. . . he had that going for him. They had met Mrs. Tin before, during one of their visits two years ago, and she had yelled at them right away for not visiting her, said that if they had to be family they were supposed to visit (needless to say the usually stopped in to visit her before returning to their homes); she could be a bit intimidating, but Raven adored the woman, adored how loud she was and how bold and strong she was, and how, despite her age and culture, she'd gladly pull pranks with Raven and tease.

“Apple cider!” shouted Raven and Charles in synch, shoving steaming cups into hands and plopping down on the arm chair together, happily crammed against each other with twin shit-eating grins on their faces. That was suspicious. “Did you poison this?” Erik asked, gesturing to his drink, they just laughed and he ended up putting his cup down. “So how long are you all staying?” Asked Charles, still with that grin. Erik suddenly wished he still had the cup in his hands. Irene nudged him, Raven stared at him expectantly, “Well. . .” he started, “actually, Ifound workinthecitysoI'mstayinginNewYork.” Then Charles's grin grew wider, “you'll stay here then.” It wasn't a question.

Erik stared at him, “you'll really have me? I mean, I was going to suggest it eventually. . That was not part of my plan. . .” he muttered, in fact, he'd planned to suggest moving in after Charles got comfortable with him being closer and coming over more frequently. He looked to his mother, her grin. . . “YOU TOLD HIM!” He exclaimed, and she burst out laughing, leaving the room quickly while Erik stat flustered and angry on the couch. Charles went and sat beside his friend, taking his hand, “commit to me.”

Anger seeped out of Erik and into the cold outside to find a new host, he stared at his friend, “you mean. . .commit, you mean, legally?” and Charles nodded, “we've known each other since we were ten and eleven, friends, even through that time I couldn't call. We've loved each other, lets be honest for what, twenty years? We're in our thirty’s now, I think it's about time we stopped tap dancing around one another and finally just did it.” They had never actually told one another they loved the other, as far as they remembered, but Erik realized, they never had to. He loved Charles as soon as he laid eyes on him through the metal gate of the orphanage. Charles had loved him just the same. Erik found himself nodding in agreement, lips parted, not certain how to articulate an actual response.

“We're drinking now, right?” Raven asked, Irene just nodded, “we brought some Brute to celebrate.” Erik whipped his head to them, his red-white haired mother already trying to gnaw a cork off a bottle, “you two knew?” he growled, “we don't have to give them good seats at the wedding, do we?” he asked Charles, who rolled his eyes and went to find his soon to be mother-in-law a corkscrew.

~

 _ **Always**_ _to be Continued,_

_Life Goes On, after all._

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed reading this, I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> The Epilogue is mostly about Erik and his feelings and the visit and does have a focus on Charles' past up to that point, though it's obvious that Erik had a good childhood with Raven and Irene. I understand that this epilogue is gushy nonsense, but I wanted a happy ending, darn it! Like all epilogues, particularly Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows epilogue in my opinion, feel free to exclude it from all the other chapters and assume your own ending.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


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